


Miss Communication

by buriedbybooks



Category: Leverage
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Mondegreens, Multi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buriedbybooks/pseuds/buriedbybooks
Summary: Five times Eliot misheard Hardison, and one time he didn’t.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 12
Kudos: 163





	Miss Communication

**Author's Note:**

> This all started when I asked myself what would happen if Eliot misheard Hardison saying “hinky”...
> 
> Hilarity ensued.
> 
> And then I started writing, and it was all just _feelings_. So, not what I intended, but apparently what I needed to write.
> 
> As always, thank you to JustAsSweet for being my sounding board.

**1.**  
Hardison was rambling again, talking with Parker about their earlier recon mission. Eliot liked listening to them talk; they sounded… content. Happy. It was a strange thing, happiness, longer lasting and less instantaneous than it used to be. Something he thought he’d given up on years ago.

Eliot only paid attention to the conversation with half an ear, letting the words flow past and around him while he considered what he wanted to cook for dinner. Desert was easy--chocolate was required at almost all times, and this was no exception. Marinating chicken sounded good, but that would have to be prep for a later date…

“Eliot, you’re just tuning us out, aren’t you, man?” Hardison complained.

Eliot just grunted. Statements like that from Hardison still did not require a reply. Also, Eliot’s less-than-verbal responses were one of the things that annoyed Hardison. Which was fun.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I think a good entry strategy would be to…”

Tuning Hardison back out, Eliot looked at the clock. It was late enough that something simple and quick would be best. Pasta. Lemon penne pasta with vegetables if he could swing it. He set the water on to boil and pulled out his ingredients.

“...it was just Miss Communication.”

“Huh. I’ve never heard of that pageant before,” Eliot commented, head in the fridge while he chose which vegetables to add to the pasta. 

“Pageant? Dude, what the hell?”

Suddenly, Hardison was right there, Parker beside him. Eliot closed the door to the fridge, pepper and tomatoes in hand.

“What?” Eliot growled. “I don’t know every pageant in every southern town.”

Parker cocked her head at him, completely confused.

Hardison, though, was starting to smirk. “Eliot, babe, I said ‘missed communication,’ not ‘Miss Communication’. You really weren’t listening.”

Eliot grunted and hoped that he had enough control that he wasn’t actually flushing with embarrassment.

“But seriously, man, now I have to ask, how many southern pageants do you know about?”

“What’s a pageant?” Parker cut in before Eliot could answer.

“It’s a competition between women, usually, for a title recognizing their… attributes,” Eliot tried to explain, knowing that this conversation could land him in hot water. While Parker was understanding about most parts of their pasts, she could get jealous. And that wasn’t something Eliot had intentionally waved in front of her in a long time.

“Beauty. They parade around and show off their looks and their talents,” Hardison added.

Parker made a face at Eliot. “Why would you be involved in that?”

Hardison’s smirk turned into a grin. Eliot glared at him, hoping Hardison wouldn’t make trouble. Not that he didn’t deserve it. “I dated one or two winners. It was a thing in my hometown.”

Eliot was right. Parker made an annoyed face, wrinkling up her nose and spinning away with a huff and a muttered, “weird”.

Hardison just laughed. “Better make that chocolate rich tonight, man. And pay attention next time.”

**2.**  
The next time, it really wasn’t Eliot’s fault. They were on a job, and Hardison _still_ hadn’t figured out a way to waterproof the earbuds. He had improved them, but there was so much static in his comm that Eliot could barely hear Hardison, even though his tone indicated that he was almost shouting.

Which made sense since Eliot had taken a hit and been tossed off a pier. Hardison was probably trying to make sure that he was still breathing.

“I’m okay, Hardison. Just soggy. How’s Parker?”

“She’s back. How quickly can you get here?”

Eliot looked around. It seemed that no one had waited to make sure that he wasn’t coming back. Amateurs. Did they really think that tossing someone into the water meant that they were out of commission? Hired security these days, so poorly trained it was embarrassing.

“Give me ten,” Eliot said as he broke into a jog. He kept an eye out, just in case, and tried to ignore the uncomfortable chafing of his jeans.

Hardison, as always, continued to talk, but as his voice returned to normal levels, it became even more difficult to make out. And Eliot was almost positive that he hadn’t heard the word he thought he heard, but with Hardison it was almost impossible to guess.

Pulling open the back of the van, Eliot couldn’t help but growl, “How the hell is my getting shoved in the water ‘kinky,’ Hardison?”

The wide-eyed, shocked expressions on both his partners’ faces as they stared at him made Eliot catch his breath between laughter and frustration. Parker, he was relieved to see, looked completely unscathed and actually relaxed. It was one of the parts of this job that he still found challenging--having to go off and leave them to defend themselves. But drawing off the rent-a-cops had been the right decision this time.

Hardison and Parker exchanged a glance, and Eliot could feel the communication pass between them before they turned back to him with matching smirks. And speculation. He let Parker drag him into the back of the van by the front of his shirt.

“You still mishearing things, man?” Hardison asked. “The word was ‘hinky’.”

“You still haven’t fixed the waterproofing problem on the earbuds,” Eliot grumbled as he started struggling to pull off his wet boots.

“Or you just can’t keep your mind out of the gutter.” Hardison tilted his head as if considering Eliot. “Though, kinky kinda works in this situation, too, don’t you think, babe?”

Eliot felt Parker’s fingers picking and prodding at his wet clothing. “Honestly, he just looks uncomfortable, but I do appreciate the view.”

Groaning, Eliot let his head drop back and thunk against the side of the van. Between the adrenaline crash, Parker’s hands, and Alec’s smile, he knew he was screwed.

**3.**  
On quiet weeks, Eliot and Hardison would go over plans for the pub. They parked themselves at one of the pub’s tables with their laptops, cellphones, and notes. Amy would periodically stop by and answer any questions they had about staff response or observations she’d made about their customers and workers. Sometimes Parker would sit at the bar and chat with Amy, but she never offered to help unless it was when Eliot needed someone to taste a new recipe.

Tonight, Hardison was working on lining up artists for their live music nights, and Eliot wanted to revamp the menu again to work more with locally sourced and seasonal foods. Parker had decided to try out a new rig she designed, leaving both with a promise to be back later for desert.

Eliot noticed that she hadn’t said anything about dinner. That woman thought chocolate was its own food group.

Looking at a paper version of the BrewPub’s menu sitting beside his laptop, Eliot twirled the pen in his hand. He’d already underlined which vegetables were edging out of season and needed to decide whether those dishes would be moved off the menu, altered to include different ingredients, or if he’d allow imported vegetables.

He pulled up the spreadsheet with Amy’s notes on which dishes were popular. It was always a bit of a surprise to him, what dishes were favored.

“Hardison, are you changing the beer menu at all?” Eliot asked. Because that was the other wrench in the works--though Hardison had actually gotten better at brewing beers, he sometimes had unique flavors that the menu needed to work around.

“Nothing different from last year’s fall specials,” Hardison replied, distracted. He had bluetooth headphones on, so Eliot wasn’t sure if his partner was listening to something on his computer or his phone. But the answer was amazingly helpful. Nothing to work around that he hadn’t already figured out in the past.

Soups could get richer and creamier with the weather turning cold. As usual, he wanted a selection of seasonal staples that he could rotate as the daily specials. He needed some sort of squash or pumpkin bisque because that really was expected as they moved toward Halloween and Thanksgiving. Perhaps he’d do something with cumin and chile to spice it up… He needed a good meat stew, too…

“Spam!” Hardison exclaimed.

Eliot froze and turned to glare at his partner. “Spam is an abomination. If you think I’m adding that to the menu, we need to go a few rounds in the ring so I can knock some sense into you, Hardsion!”

Hardison turned to blink at him, apparently completely confused at the outburst. “I’ll have you know, sir, that nothing I would ever send out in our BrewPub’s email list should be considered spam,” he continued with a gesture to his ear.

Crap. Hardison had been on the phone, and likely talking about junk mail instead of canned pork.

Eliot went back to the menu, but looked up when Hardison leaned forward and gently pushed Eliot’s laptop closed. The hacker had pulled off his headphones and there was an expression on his face that was a mix of amusement, exasperation and love. It took Eliot’s breath away, every time. Not that he was going to let Hardison know that.

“Eliot.”

“What?” he growled. They were in public, dammit. PDAs were not a good idea.

“Did you seriously think that I would suggest you put spam on the menu?” Hardison asked in _that_ tone.

“Man, you wanted to put anchovies and pineapple on the _same_ pizza. So, no, not out of the realm of possibility.”

Hardison was looking more amused by the second. “That’s why you’re in charge of the menu, man. But seriously, we need to start worrying about your hearing, old man?”

Eliot glared. “You’re the one who shouted out of context.”

“And you completely missed the fact that I’ve been on the phone for the last ten minutes?”

“Just get back to work.”

**4.**  
It was a goddamn voicemail, it shouldn’t be so hard to figure out. Eliot glared at the cellphone in his hand and replayed the message from Hardison for a third time.

_“Hey, man, [static] need a favor. [Shouting in the background] Yeah, alright, I’ll be there in a minute! As I was saying, I need a favor. I know I’m stuck here until [static] sucks, but I wanted to do something [static] our girl. As much as it pains me, she really does like [background noise] and I think we should get her a Toyota. Just for laughs. [Static] hard on her. Cases with kids always are. [Static] pick one up? I checked and they have ‘em [noise] in the mall. Thanks, Eliot.”_

Eliot knew that Hardison was building his cover for the next job, which entailed working full hours. And he agreed, that totally sucked. “Our girl” was obviously Parker, and Hardison wanted to do something nice for her. But what the hell did a Toyota have to do with that? Parker was an absolute terror behind the wheel, and Eliot thought that Hardison had agreed that they should keep her from driving as much as possible. Now he wanted to buy her a car? Even for Hardison that was… actually, no. Not excessive. Eliot was man enough to admit that Hardison had bought the pub for him and Parker, even if the hacker hadn’t ever said so explicitly.

So he was just supposed to go out and buy a car? A boring, dull as cars could get, car.

And why did Hardison think that buying a car was for laughs?

Eliot tried calling Hardison back. Straight to voicemail. He sent a text, but who knew when the hacker would respond.

He could get a Supra, which was as close to a cool car as Toyota could make. Still had nothing on his Challenger.

Maybe he was supposed to rent one for the job? But that didn’t really make sense with the rest of the context.

Parker didn’t really like expensive gifts anyway, unless they were stolen or were actual cash. Eliot was not going to steal a car; that was Parker’s job.

What the hell, he was going to have to corner Hardison at work. He could either try calling and hope that the company let him speak to one specific grunt on their staff, or he could grift his way in.

Grifting would be faster. And there was no reason anyone would remember one of Portland’s many bike couriers.

Eliot quickly changed into cargo shorts, a graphic t-shirt, put on a bandana under his helmet, and borrowed one of Hardison’s satchel bags. Hopefully that was preppy enough… well, he could add the glasses.

He was able to get to the company efficiently, walk in with a fake package addressed to Hardison’s alias, and sweet talk the receptionist into getting Hardison to come down and sign for it himself.

Not five minutes later, Eliot saw Hardison strolling down the hall in a well-tailored suit. There was no one who wore a suit quite like the hacker did, as if it was as comfortable as his ratty jeans and shirts.

“Mr. Kelly? I need your signature.”

Hardison came close to sign the clipboard.

“What’re you doing here, man?” Hardison demanded in an undertone.

“I should be asking you why you want me to buy Parker a damn car. I lost half your voice message to static and noise, but Toyota came through loud and clear,” Eliot hissed.

Hardison blinked, showing utter and complete confusion. “Toyota? Oh, yeah, I guess it coulda sounded that way if the recording was bad. I said toy Yoda, like one of those little stuffed toys you’d see at DisneyLand or something; just something that’d make her smile. Even if she is crazy for liking the CGI instead of Frank Oz.”

Eliot couldn’t help but laugh. Of course it was something completely sweet and nerdy. It made so much more sense than a car. “Yeah, I can do that. I was going to make chocolate lava cake for the same reason.”

“She’ll love that.”

“See you at home after your shift.”

Eliot started to walk away when Hardison called after him. “Hey, man, you forgot your tip!”

Smirking, Eliot took the money, knowing that he would go and spend it on a stupid but lovable toy.

_(Bonus: Hardison’s voice message)_

Hey, man, I need a favor. [Shouting in the background] Yeah, alright, I’ll be there in a minute! As I was saying, I need a favor. I know I’m stuck here until the end of my shift, like a normal person, which totally sucks, but I wanted to do something nice for our girl. As much as it pains me, she really does like that stupid CGI Yoda, and I think we should get her a toy Yoda. Just for laughs. The last case was hard on her. Cases with kids always are. Would you be able to pick one up? I checked and they have ‘em at the toy store in the mall. Thanks, Eliot. 

**5.**   
Eliot could hear Parker and Hardison bickering upstairs. Well, Hardison was bickering. From the tone of his voice, it sounded like he was spinning up. Parker was probably helping him along with non-verbal pokes and prods to his ego. It was, for better or worse, something that both Parker and Eliot enjoyed doing from time to time. They just enjoyed the show.

From what he could make out, they were talking about the van? Unusual for Hardison to refer to his beloved van as anything other than Lucille.

Wherever that name had come from, no matter how many were destroyed and replaced, it stuck.

Eliot turned back to the stack of requests in front of him. Each member of the team received them now, and they ended up with most of their jobs by word of mouth. Somehow, his always ended up printed out and put in a stack labeled with a note. It was either Parker, because she preferred paper like he did, or it was Hardison because he knew both of his partners preferred something more physical than a computer screen.

“...carrying on as the van goes!”

That was definitely a protest. Eliot snorted. Hardison could _always_ be counted on to carry on about any possible slight to Lucille. Especially if Parker ended up driving.

Giving up on the paperwork in favor of Hardison fireworks, Eliot climbed the stairs and leaned in the open doorway to their apartment. As anticipated, Hardison was waving his arms around while Parker cocked her head to the side and tried not to smirk.

Hardison must have seen Eliot out of the corner of his eye because he turned and said, “Come on, man, back me up here. Tell Parker that remastering the original Star Wars movies was like putting crayon on a Van Gogh!”

Eliot couldn’t help but snort. Well that wasn’t what he’d thought the argument was about. And from Parker’s expression, this particular Hardison torture session may have been deliberate. With a lazy shrug, Eliot also pushed the hacker’s buttons a little. “I had been going to tell Parker she was right, that you do carry on about every little thing about your van. I have no opinions about Star Wars.”

Hardison spluttered. “No opinion? NO opinion? You’re killing me! That’s it, we’re gonna have a marathon tonight and y’all can just learn the difference. Han Solo shot first, dammit.”

The hacker stalked off, probably to go grab the films. Eliot exchanged a look with Parker. She looked so satisfied that Eliot couldn’t help but chuckle. Parker grinned in response. Neither of them cared about the movies, but a three movie-long cuddle session on the couch was something Eliot was completely behind.

“You lock up downstairs, and I’ll make the popcorn,” Eliot offered.

Parker hopped down from her perch with a smile. As she passed him, her fingers trailed against his arm.

Yes, Eliot was totally okay with Parker’s plan.

**+1.**  
Eliot stared at the industrial range in front of him. It was spotless. He’d scrubbed and buffed until the chrome was shiny, there wasn’t a speck left on the surface. Turning, he saw that the counters were the same. So were the other appliances. Everything was back in its place.

It wasn’t enough.

Grabbing the spray and towels, he stalked out into the pub’s dining area and started reefing on the tables. When he finished those, maybe he’d clean the chairs.

It was better than thinking.

The last thing he wanted to do was think.

It used to be easier, not thinking. Before.

Eliot leaned into the motion, using enough force that the table creaked in protest.

“Eliot.”

Not. Thinking.

“Eliot.”

A strong hand gripped his shoulder, firm but gentle. Eliot still didn’t turn around.

“Talk to me, man. Talk to us.”

If they hadn’t made him promise, Eliot would have been away. Gone somewhere where he could release this tension. Somewhere where they wouldn’t see if he snapped.

“This one was too close to home.”

Parker’s voice was like Hardison’s hand--firm, understanding. No trace of pity, just warmth and strength.

“It needed to be done, but it’s over now. They’re safe.” Parker stared at him intently.

Necessary was a dangerous mantra. Necessary could be warped in the wrong hands. But the hand on his shoulder wasn’t wrong. Neither were Parker’s eyes.

Eliot slowly let the tension ease, starting with his fingers balled into the towel. There was no one to fight here. And as much as that would help, he’d promised.

Meeting Parker’s stare, Eliot nodded. He felt Hardison squeeze his shoulder and unhunched himself so that he could lean back into the hold.

Parker came around the table so that Eliot was caught between them.

“We won’t ask,” Parker said solemnly.

Hardison’s voice was right there in his ear. “But we’ll listen. We got you.”

If he let himself admit it, Eliot knew there was nowhere he’d rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I have been remiss in not letting people know that I'm also over on Tumblr under the same name, buriedbybooks. Feel free to come by and visit, shoot me an ask, dm, request, or prompt.


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